Diary of a Color Guard
by its-never-lupus
Summary: Rated for eventual chapters. This is gonna be done as a series of diary entries, the title is rather self-explanatory. I hope y'all like this, it's all true, some names and details have been changed here and there. Plz review!
1. Columbus

Hey, did any of y'all know has a Marching Band category?! AAAAAHH! This ROX! Yeah…what follows is a mostly true account of what happened to me and my friends during band camp, and into the marching season. Read on and be amazed! (OK, not really, lol!)

**October 2nd, 2004-Columbus**** Marching Contest**

"Gah…6:00 a.m. Waaaaaaay to early to be putting in my contacts" I muttered, as I struggled with the stupid little soft blue disks. We had to be at school at 6:30, so we could load the buses, and take off by 7:15.

Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE guard. I really do. But Mr. Nielsen is OUT OF HIS FREAKING GOURD. Stupid band directors…

"Hey Meagan" I said, as I walked to the band room, weighted down with two bags, my uniform, and a gift for our flag sisters exchange. "How ya doin'?"

"Uh. Too. Early." Meagan said to me.

"Niiiice. You seen Kim? I got a check for my bag."

"I think she's outside."

To make what is fast becoming boring shorter, I'll skip to the next section. Suffice it to say, don't try to stuff a Moshi pillow into a guard bag. It just…doesn't work.

"BOUMA!" I yelled, wandering around the band room looking for my friend Kirsten.

"What?!" came a call from the back of the room.

"Which bus are we on?!"

"Two, ya dork! Remember? We have Dane…ringing any bells?"

"Oh, yeah! Yeah…I hate Dane."

"ELLA! ELLA BELLA!"

"AAAH! Get OFF of me, Krueger! Too early for the hugging thing."

I stuck my tongue out at her. Ella is one of my friends, but sometimes we get on each other's nerves.

Oh, look at me! Where are my manners?! My name is Elizabeth Krueger, and I'm a guardie at East High School, home of the most kick-ass band on the freakin' planet, and my opinion is completely unbiased, I'm sure! The chick who was just fending me off is Ella, a rookie baritone player. She's all right, but, like me, she's not exactly a morning person. The girl I was looking for earlier is Kirsten, and this is her third year playing mellophone. She's…interesting, let's put it that way.

Then, we have the mother of all band geeks: Mandie. Gah, where to begin? If she's not in the band room, she's in the guard/trombone room practicing one of the two dozen instruments she plays. Yes, I said two dozen. Told ya she's a band nerd.

But anyways…back to the bus. It was overcrowded, 'cause it was carrying 30 people, their uniforms, their instruments, their hat boxes, and all the color guard crap. Our flags, thankfully, were on the U-Haul with the pit equipment.

"Morning, Mandie" I said, tripping over Dane's mellophone while trying to find an empty seat (there weren't too many left).

"Ha ha, Krueger tripped" came the voice I never like to hear.

"Shut up, Dane" I muttered, plunking my stuff down about two rows back from my friends.

"Just because you're clumsy, don't take it out on me!" he said, having a laugh at my expense. Like always.

I rolled my eyes and got out my CD player. I noticed the window had some frost on it, so, being the genius I am, I wrote 'Columbus or Bust' backwards on the window that the other band morons on the other band buses could read it if they looked out the window. Which they probably wouldn't, but you never know.

I was in the middle of 'Love Me For Me' by Ashlee Simpson, when I noticed Ella had turned around and was trying to get my attention.

"What?!" I said, pulling off the headphones.

"Ya doin' OK back there, Krueger?" she asked.

"Yeah. Me, my music, and some reeeeeeeeally depressing thoughts I've been having lately."

"OK. Good for you."

Why does she even bother?!

I kinda drifted in and out of dozing, until about 8:30, when I got uber-bored with my music, and moved up a couple rows to talk with my friends. And Dane, but he doesn't count.

"Hey guys" I said, sliding into a seat which had a few flutes and some hat boxes on it, but I didn't really care.

"Ummm…could you please not sit on my flute?" said a dark-haired girl in the row behind me.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry! I didn't see it there. Yeah, I'll move" I said, getting up and moving the flutes over so I wasn't sitting on them any longer.

"Thanks."

I turned around to find Mandie glaring at me. "What?!"

"You sat on an instrument?!"

"Shut up, Mandie."

We passed much of the bus ride like this, in friendly bickering, until about 9:30, when the guard had to start getting ready.

Now, I've you've never seen a guardie get ready, it's a long, complicated, and (sometimes) painful process. Read _Memoirs of a Geisha_, and you'll have some idea of what I'm talking about.

And then, the mother of all disasters:

"Meagan!"

"What?"

"I forgot my make-up!"

DUN DUN DUN! I could almost hear the cheesy drama music.

"Elizabeth!" Gulp! "Come get your hair done."

Oh. OK. I can handle this. So I sat down and allowed Amanda and Sally to put way too much gel in my hair, and complain about how it was too thin, why was it layered?, and-of course!-they needed more gel.

Groan.

But, through some miracle from God, the other girls allowed me to use their make-up, so I ended up using Rachel's blush and mascara, and Beth's lipstick and eye shadow, a rather interesting hodge-podge, considering Rachel is African-American, and Beth is maybe a shade tanner than me, but not much.

We finished the rest of the ride in relative awakeness, and when we arrived in Columbus (Nebraska, not Ohio), what was the first thing we did?

Spy on the other bands, of course.

What else would we do? Among some of the more interesting things we saw, we saw a guard with a male member, a relative rarity around here.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that, there, is a flamer" said Matt Huntoon, resident chauvinist (but Dane's a close second), and all-around asshole. I rolled my eyes, and continued to help Brandy pin up the sheet, which would divide the bus in half so we could change in some semblance of privacy.

Now, let me describe our uniforms to you. They are all one piece, black spandex, they have a dropped waist that hits a tall person about the middle of the abdomen, and they have (shudder) sequins. They are ugly, tight, and WAY too thin for October in Nebraska. Which is why I was thanking the Marching Band gods that Amanda was allowing us to wear our guard jackets over our uniforms. We were still freezing of course, but it was better than nothing. I probably should also mention that our gloves had no fingertips. The band gloves did, but they were thin, white cotton, so they weren't much better off.

We were doing our work for 'Tonight' in the show, which meant we had to march in parade block, in front of 26 very loud trumpets, who all the meaning of the word _fortissimo_ all too well. On the upside, our parade wasn't until 10:00 a.m., which meant I could chat with my friends in the mellophone and baritone sections, which were directly behind the trumpets. There, I taught my friend Mandie how to do a dropspin.

Now, let me describe Mandie to you. She's about 5'10", 215, 220 pounds, and her hair is never in place. It was, however, somehow pinned up under her band hat. And here she was, doing a dropspin (doing it wrong, to be truthful), and looking ridiculous. But it was all in fun, and we were all laughing, herself included.

"Elizabeth."

"Yeah, Amanda?"

"Don't spin."

Oops. "Sorry, I'll stop now."

She gave me a rather tight smile, and went back to talking with Kim and Molly, the captains.

"Bloody superiors" I muttered, rolling up my silk.

I'll spare you the boring details of us standing there and talking. Suffice it to say, the techniques used to try to warm up my fingers (which were turning bright red with cold) were sometimes…interesting. At one time, Mandie had one, Kirsten had the other, and they proceeded to start conducting like a drum major, still holding my hands.

At different speeds, I might add. Yeah…

Anyways, the parade time eventually rolled around, and we got into formation. Mandie's nose was so high in the air, it rivaled Mt. Everest. But Mr. Nielsen always says, "If we want to be the best, we have to portray the image that we are the best. Noses in the air!"

O…K.

We were actually on a side street, which meant we had to march over to Main Street, where the parade was taking place.

_'OK'_ I thought. _"Just remember, when this is over, you get to go have lunch. Preferably something hot.'_

I'll skip the parade, and just say that we did all right, but I managed to hit Brandy in the back of the head with my pole about three minutes into it. We knew we weren't gonna win any awards for parade, but we still gave our best shot.

So, we got back to the bus, changed, and went in search of lunch (read: junk food). I went with Mandie, Kirsten, Ella, Tiffany (another friend of mine, a clarinet), and along the way, we met Kirsten's sister, whose name is also Elizabeth, a mellophone whose name I can't remember, and Elektra, nicknamed Ele. We had originally intended to go to Valentino's, but there was such a huge line, that we decided to go to Super Saver instead. And let me tell you, you do not let teenage girls with money loose in a grocery store. I bought a box of Ritz Bits Sandwiches with cheese, two bottles of Diet Pepsi, two packs of gum, a Lunchable, and a bag of orange and black M&M's. The others bought similarly unhealthy junk, Ele even bought a box of Pop-Tarts and by the end of the day, she'd eaten them all. Gag. I like Pop-Tarts too, but not that much.

After we'd finished eating in the shadows of our locked buses, we loaded back up, and drove over to Columbus High to practice our whole show. Tedious, boring, _muy abburido_, how many other ways can I put this? We went off by ourselves for awhile, where I learned I was fluffing through the movements, and I had to lean into them more. I sometimes bloody HATE guard. And during the run-through, I managed to tick off Beth by being ONE bloody step out of place. So shoot me. It happens to the best of them.

After the run-through, we loaded up again, and drove over to Pawnee Park Stadium, where we changed on the buses-up went the sheet again!-and then went over to a park so we could warm up. Now, we couldn't see the band, but we could hear the drumline, and I saw the flash of gold off what I was pretty sure was a saxophone. I listened to the drumline for a moment, and after a while, the basses seemed to be playing in time to the rapid beating of my heart…whoa. I just waxed poetic.

Anyways, by this time, we'd met up with Kim's mom, who's the guard mom, and she carries around this big-ass bag of hair stuff and makeup, for silly people like me who forget theirs. So I re-did my makeup, and-oh, joy!-had more gel put into my hair. Then we gathered up our flags, stripped them, and waited for the band to join us so we could march over to the gate, and–oh boy!-wait some more.

DUN DUN DUN…

And the moment arrived…our performance time.

Now I'm telling you, the best snare player we had couldn't play a beat to keep up with the tempo of my heart. It's just…not possible. We had to all stay in step as we marched onto the fail, and when the drum majors blew their whistles, we had to snap to attention and yell, "ONE!" as loud as we possibly could. Silly me, I forgot.

Anyways, we then had to mark time four counts, then run onto the field and set our flags as fast as possible, then run to our first drill spot, lie down on the ground, and freeze in that position.

All in all, our performance went rather well, I thought. Anna dropped her flag once, but she recovered rather quickly, and got right back into it. And I was off-rhythm once or twice, but everything was pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.

After the performance, we gathered up our silks and marched off the field. We met our coach around the corner of the stadium, and she said that 'Maria', the opener, was the cleanest she'd ever seen it. This made all of us very happy, natch. Then we loaded up our flags back onto the truck, and went back to the buses to change into more comfortable clothes. We then had to go back to the stadium for the awards presentation, in which we already knew we were going to get a One, most likely. We haven't gotten a Two at Columbus for nine years. Let's not break the streak now.

When we got back to the stadium, Columbus was just marching onto the field, so we sat through their performance, the theme of which was 'James Bond 007'. They were pretty good, but one chick near the front kept getting a wrap, and I was laughing at her.

Eventually, they finished their performance, which was good, 'cause I was on the verge of throwing up from looking at their outfits. SKINTIGHT black pants, they literally left nothing to the imagination. Finally, it was time for awards. Classes A, B, C, and D had already had theirs at about 3:30, so it was just the AA bands. I wasn't really paying a whole lot of attention, but I clapped politely for all the bands, because, after all, I was representing my school. We were one of the last to perform, so we were near the end. As everyone thought, we got a One, and so did the guard. Then, it came time for the special awards. Best Guard, Best Drumline, and Best Band. These awards are given out regardless of class, so, in theory, a Class D band could win. The first one given out was Best Drumline. It went to Omaha Burke, which was odd, 'cause usually Lincoln High or us win. The next one was Best Guard, or Auxiliary, as they called it. I crossed my fingers, and looked at Meagan, who was sitting behind me.

"And the award for Best Auxiliary goes to…" said the announcer, pausing for effect. I crossed my fingers. _Please, oh please, oh please…_

"Lincoln East!"

I was jumping up and down, screaming my head off, and slapping fives with everyone around me. Finally, after we'd settled down, they announced the award for Best Band. It went to Fillmore Central, a Class C school that not many people had ever even heard of.

We stopped on the way out of the stadium to get something to eat, then headed back to the buses for the two-and-a-half hour drive home.

Back at the buses, my friends were congratulating me, and I think they were genuinely proud of me. They know how I much I love it.

The ride home was much more fun than the one there, 'cause we were all wired on adrenaline and sugar. About halfway home, we started vocalizing 'Tonight', 'cause we had nothing else to do. Everyone sang their instruments' part, and I just did whatever I'd heard and could sing from memory. This kinda pissed off the guard in the back of the bus, but none of us really gave a damn. We told some rather dirty jokes, hashed and re-hashed politics, and just pretty much gabbed the whole way home.

When we rolled back into Lincoln around 8:30 or 9:00, I was ready to take out my contacts and go to bed. But I had to put away my flags, gather up all my crap, etc. Also I had to remind my friend Eric (whom I have a huge-ass crush on) that his ride was about to leave without him. Thick-headed drummers…but I digress. Then I called my dad and told him that we were done, and could he please come pick me up? Then, when we got home, I told both of my parents that we'd won best guard. They were, as expected, uber-proud of us. I then told then that the guard was going to Spaghetti Works tomorrow to celebrate, and they said I could probably borrow some money. I went to bed that night, very tired, but very satisfied, and a tad bit smug that we'd beat out Lincoln High for best guard.

I fell asleep almost instantly.

A/N: So, that's my story. I'm gonna do this like a series of diary entries, they won't all be as long-ass as this one, this one was just really important to me. Anywho…I hope y'all liked this, please review!


	2. Lincoln High

A/N: Wow, you're back? And here I was thinking that no one cared about my little story. Guess I was…wrong! ((Is shocked)) Guess there's a first time for everything…just kidding. Anyways, this chapter is dedicated to my friend Kirsten, who kept nagging and _nagging _and _nagging_ me to update. Ya happy now, Bouma?! I'm updating, already!!

Read on for more marching band randomness!!

October 9th, 2004-Lincoln High Marching Contest

"_At least I don't have to be out of here at the crack of dawn_" I thought to myself as I hauled my butt out of bed around 10:00 a.m.

Today was the Lincoln High Contest, and Mr. Nielsen had worked out a really weird schedule for us to be at school around 1, then practice for awhile, change, then go over to Lincoln High, 'cause we didn't perform until 8:45 that night.

Eh…it's his prerogative. (A/N: I don't like Britney Spears…but the word fit.)

So I showed up at 12:45, like I was supposed to (the guard always was earlier than the rest of the band…make-up and hair, and all that jazz.), and had my hair done. Then we trooped down to the field (in our ugly black uniforms, I might add) so we could take a picture of the whole band. Then we walked back up to the school, changed into clothes so we could practice, and then we walked back down to the field so we could run through our show a few HUNDRED times.

I know what you're thinking, especially you, Bouma: "You're such a whiner, Krueger! WE had to walk up and down hauling our instruments!"

Yeah, well…you didn't have to haul a flag bag up and down…that thing weighed at least 20 pounds, and I'm not even kidding.

And, to be honest, that practice had so many stops and starts, it was a wonder we got anything done at all. There were even times when we could sit down (the guard, I mean), and those times are precious, all too few and far between.

FREE TIME IS SLACKER TIME!!! (A/N: This is my actual motto…embrace it! LOL)

Some of those times, like when Nielsen was bitching at a different section, and I was near my friends, we'd talk and goof around, until I got yelled at by my coach, or some other "adult" (note the quotation marks), and we'd stop for the moment. Don't get me wrong, marching band was probably one of the most fun experiences of my life, but it lacked…what's the word I want?…

Oh, yeah.

DISCIPLINE!

And I'm not blaming Mr. Nielsen (God knows, the man tries his hardest, and puts up with all of us remarkably well…this oughta make Mandie happy…LOL), but maybe…he didn't appoint some of the best section leaders.

But I digress…

Then we walked back up to the school (thankfully for the last time that day), and had picnics with our sections. Me, personally, the guard and me, that is, we had a pizza party, but I didn't eat much. I think I was a combo of nerves and stress, or maybe the sandwich I ate before I left…I don't know.

But that isn't the point.

We got into our uniforms, re-did our hair and make-up (we'd sweated most of it off), then got onto the same buses we'd ridden to Columbus in.

Which meant I was with…((shudder)) Dane!

Again!

Dane and I don't often see eye to eye, but we do agree on one thing: We can't stand George W. Bush. So, we often get into impassioned debates on what's being done to our country, and why couldn't he just resign, or something? (A/N: By the way, a bunch of Democrats and Independents wore dark clothes to school the day after the election, to symbolize mourning for our country. Just a random bit of related trivia. XD) But Mandie and Bouma, avid Bush supporters, often must interject their two cents, so these debates often turn into full-blown arguments, full of smacking the other side when you don't agree.

Once we got to Lincoln High, the band went off to find a practice space, and we went off to try a place that was lit enough to practice our work, so that we wouldn't kill ourselves or each other warming up.

It was quite amusing actually, we ended up in the parking lot under the Lincoln High lit-up sign, and even though she said no tossing, we did anyways. But you can't see a black pole hurtling down from space in the darkness, and since all but one of our poles were black…well, you get the picture.

It was here that I learned about the pre-competition rituals. Call them silly if you want, but they promoted team spirit, which we needed a lot of, in most people's eyes. We had two actually, the second being my favorite.

The first one went, with all of us in a circle, beating our poles on the ground:

"Foxy ladies always get some flags, flags!"

"Foxy ladies always get some flags, flags!"

"Foxy ladies always get some flags! FLAGS!"

Yeah…the second one's better. Kim led it, and it went:

"Can I get a Hoo! Rah?!"

"What?! What?!"

"Hoo! Rah!"

"Hoo! Rah!"

"Ooh! Ooh!"

Ahh…good times, good times. They were a great bunch, and I'll miss all the seniors(yes, even Sally and Tierra) once they've graduated and left.

Anyways…back to the competition.

One of the great things about being in guard is that you line up in front of the rest of the band, and then the dumb, I mean _drum_ majors, then the rest of the band, so on, by section.

Well, either by the intervention of God, or by some stroke of dumb luck(or maybe that's just the way it's always been done), the mellophones were right after the drum majors, and I could kinda sorta communicate (through exaggerated mouth movements) with Mandie, who was standing in the front rank of people. And she was the first one (besides me) to hear about Ella.

Let me explain. Ella hadn't been feeling that great to begin with, and it sort of came to a head right before we were due to go on. (A/N: My foot is asleep…wow, that was weally, weally wandom…LOL…BOUMA!)

I was trying (key word trying) to talk to Mandie, but conversation was a bit stilted, since I couldn't actually move and go talk to her, but then I noticed Ella talking with Mr. Whitman over off to the side, and I was kinda worried. I tried to relay this to Mandie, who, by now, had noticed that Ella wasn't there, and wondered why. After about 10 minutes of trying to be heard, and her not reading my lips too well, I managed to get the general point across.

But then I had to forget about Ella for awhile and concentrate, because it was time to go on.

Remember in my Columbus story about Mr. Nielsen's whole, "Be the best, look like we're the best" thing with our noses?

Yeah…Mandie's nose wasn't on this planet anymore. It had entered the stratosphere. I'm not even kidding.

As opposed to me, I was twitching randomly from nerves and tiredness-I'm sure I looked like crap.

Anyways, I'll skip the show and just give you the highlights, but I'll elaborate on one number:

America.

BLEAH! BLEAH ON IT ALL!!!

I'll explain. We hadn't worked out all our work for the show, and we'd just gotten the work for America a few days before. And…suffice it to say…it wasn't very polished.

We sucked.

Nah, scratch that. We REALLY REALLY sucked.

Anyways, once we got off the field, our coach wasn't too pleased with us. She said it was one of the worst shows we'd ever done, but "Cool" was more polished than last week.

"_Oh, goody_" I thought. "_Like telling a condemned man who'd going to be killed for robbery and murder that he's not guilty of the robbery, but they're still gonna kill him anyways._"

You get the picture…I was ticked at her, but mostly I was ticked at myself. I mean, I know I could've done better, but I still gave it my best shot. (A/N: I almost typed shit…LOL XD!)

Anyways, we put our stuff back on the truck that would take it back to school, and then I went to go find my friends, who were precisely where I thought they would be: Clustered around Ella, demanding to know if she was all right.

"You're such a mother, Mandie" I laughed, coming up behind her and poking her in the side.

"Eeep!" she shrieked-she hadn't seen me coming. After realizing it was just me, she calmed down (If indeed Mandie is ever calm…LOL) and said, "I just wanted to see if she was all right!"

"I know, I know" I said, wandering over to where Ella and Kirsten were standing.

"How ya feeling, Miz Ella?" I asked, poking her very gently on the shoulder.

"Eh…I've felt better" she said, swatting my hand away. Then I asked her why she hadn't been on the field, and the baritones had had to march a hole.

"Mr. Whitman said if I felt really sick, he didn't want to risk me feeling worse, or collapsing on the field, or something like that. So he had me sit out."

"Oh."

"Yep yep."

About this time, we came to the entrance to Lincoln High's field (we'd had our hands stamped earlier so we didn't have to pay), and went in to watch Lincoln High, who were performing last. They also weren't being judged for any awards, I don't know why.

But me, I have a rather short attention span, so I wandered around looking at all the cool T-shirts and stuff that was for sale. I found a couple of shirts I liked, but as the 'rents had just shelled out $23 for my two school-sanctioned shirts; I couldn't convince my dad to buy one.

Poopie.

But, yeah, so…once they finished, we milled around for a little while, then they told us to go onto the field with our directors, because they were going to start handing out the awards.

Mr. Nielsen was not too happy.

But, yeah, so, anyways…we stood around on the field for awhile, and I wandered around talking to some people I know, then some random people in the other bands, who'd I never seen before in my life. You can strike up a conversation with anyone at these competitions, because once you're off the field, you're regular people again, you're just wearing different uniforms.

Anyways, they started with giving out the band awards (Ones, Twos, etc.), and I think everyone got a One, with the possible exception of Southeast, who may've gotten a Two, but I'm not sure. (Bouma? Accuracy?)

Anyways, we got a One, like we'd expected, and the guard got a One, and I think Southeast's guard got a Two.(Bouma?) And then came the special awards-Best Guard, Best Drumline, and Best Band.

Cue the theme music.

They handed out Best Guard first.

Cue the finger crossing, frantic prayers, and the '_Oh please, oh please, oh PLEASE!_' from yours truly.

We didn't win.

Millard North did (we found out later, they only won by two points…more on that later), and everybody was disappointed-who likes to lose?

Then they handed out Best Drumline, and this was where I felt a pulse spike. Eric is on drumline, and if he won, he'd be happy, and probably in a good mood all week, which I always like to see. He has a great smile.

(sarcasm) I'm sure you have no idea why I love his smile…(shifty eyes)

"And the award for Best Drumline goes to…" (I swear, all announcers are theatre majors, or something…)

Cue the dramatic pause.

"Lincoln East!"

And now, cue the screaming, jumping up and down, whooping, hollering, clapping, cheering, and other loud forms of celebration, particularly from the snares. (Loonies, all of 'em.)

And to sum it all up…OK, truth time. I forgot who won Best Band, I think it Omaha Burke, but I have no clue. (Bouma?!)

Anyways, as we were walking back up the buses, I caught up and kept pace with Eric, and said "Congratulations."

"Thanks!" he said, looking rather pleased. He's a section leader, so I guess all the instruction with the basses has paid off.

"Good job" I said, trying to fill the not uncomfortable, but growing slightly stale, silence.

"Thanks" he said again, looking at me. "You too. You guys were good, from what I could see."

'_Which ain't much, with that honkin' rig in front of you_' I thought, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Hey, Crazy!" somebody yelled off to the side. (I think it was Shoe.)

You know, most people in marching band watch the drum majors to get their cues, and they follow the drill charts to find their spots.

Me?

I give myself musical cues, and if I can see the basses from where I'm standing, I'm doing all right, I probably need to take only a couple steps either right or left.

I'm also watching Eric, natch.

WHAT?!

Well, you would too. He's really cute.

But I really digress…

(Although I would love to know why the drumline nicknamed him 'Crazy McFunnyHat…I'll have to ask him. LOL!)

Anyways, back on the buses, Kirsten wasn't speaking to Mandie, because Mandie had licked her plume, and she was kind of pissed off. I sat behind the two of them, and Ella sat across from me, and we didn't talk all the way back to school.

Also, Anna Sterns came onto the bus crying (_crying_, for God's sake!), because we hadn't won.

Oh. My. God. Someone shoot me. Or, preferably her.

Anyways, we got back to school, I dropped off my bag, and I called my dad to get a ride home.

And as I stood out there waiting for him, I reflected on the day.  
And I smiled inwardly.

'_Yeah_' I thought. _'Today was a good day.'_

And even though we didn't win Best Guard, I had a feeling we'd clobber the competition at the LPS Invite.

Which was in a week.

__

Oy vay.

We. Need. To. PRACTICE!!!

****

END CHAPTER

Wow, I'm tired. And though I don't like to, I'm resorting to a mass shoutout:

****

SHOUTOUT TO EVERYBODY:

YOU GUYS ROCK MY SOCKS, AND I 3 YOU GUYS (Hope I did that right) SOOOOOO MUCH!! PLEASE REVIEW, SO YOU CAN HEAR ABOUT THE LPS INVITE!!

LOVE YOU GUYS!!

Quick note to Bouma:

There, are ya happy now?!

"And the band played on…"-Shake Ya Tailfeather


	3. NSBA

A/N: I know, I know, I'm out of bloody order, but if I don't do NSBA (State) NOW, I'll forget it! (…Shut up, Bouma.) Anyways, I think has a way to let you switch chappies around…I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. A…nyways…wow, I love Green Day! LOL! But that's not the point. On with the chappie!

October 23, 2004-NSBA State Marching Contest

(Seems kinda redundant, since NSBA stands for Nebraska State Bandmasters Association, but…what do I know? LOL)

Is it just me, or are the times we have to be at school getting later and later?

Nah, it's not just me.

Columbus was 6:30, Lincoln High was 12:45, NSBA is…1:30 p.m.! (Eh, it's only 45 minutes, but still)

When I pulled up in front of the school, I was like, '_OK, this is it. This is STATE! You canNOT blow it, do NOT fluff your movements, and do NOT watch Jessa for your drill spots. Otherwise, no pressure.'_

Not a good day inside my head.

So anyways, at 1:00 p.m., I was flying around my room, trying to locate my other guard shoe, having forgotten to pack the night before. My mom asked me if I had, and I told her yes…I fudged a little bit.

But that's not important right now. The point is, I found all the pieces to my uniform, packed them in my bag, and took off for East.

When I got there, Elkhorn was on our practice field, so I stood and watched their show for a little bit, they weren't bad. But I realized I had to go inside eventually, so I picked up my bag, and pulled open the band room door.

And almost got knocked backwards from the 311 blasting on the stereo.

Stupid drumline people and their stupid loud music.

After making sure I could still hear, and I wouldn't trip over somebody 'cause the lights were so damn dim, I went on a manhunt.

Actually, it was more like a friend-hunt, but I've always wanted to say that.

Anyways, the whole place was a big mess of people because they were getting everybody's luggage for the Florida trip, checking it in, labeling it, etc, etc. I wasn't going (can you say 'cheap dad'?), so I said hello, we talked for awhile, and then I headed to the dressing room to get ready. It didn't take that long, but what always holds me up is my hair. It used to be a lot longer, and it took a HELL of a lot of gel, at least 10 or 15 bobby pins, and a hairnet to get it to stay in place. Then I have to do my makeup (someone else does my eyeliner for me-every time I try, I end up poking myself), and get changed.

But not necessarily in that order. LOL!

Anyways, I got changed, and we headed down to the gym to practice, then we had pizza around two o' clock, and watched a tape of the graduating senior's freshman show. I wasn't following it too well, I was chatting a lot with the people around me.

Which included Dane Whittier, and he ALWAYS bloody manages to somehow bring the conversation back around to himself somehow.

But this was what I heard: "Waa waa waa waa me me me waa waa waa me me me."

Yeah…not so much.

So we talked for awhile, about everything, including (like you couldn't guess) politics. Dane and I are staunchly Democratic; it's one of the only things we agree on.

And, might I add, close to being the ONLY thing we agree on.

So, anyways…once that was done, we trooped off to get changed, and I headed back to the men's dressing room (I never quite figured out why they stuck us in there…Mystery of life, I guess), re-did my make-up, fixed my hair, and finagled myself into my stupid little outfit. Then we all trooped out to our practice field, which had, until recently, been occupied by one out-of-town band after another, so it was finally our turn.

I'll skip the details…suffice it to say that our warm up could've been better, but I've seen us look worse.

And, lucky us, we were one of the last performances of the day, since all the Class-AA bands go last.

Summing it up:

We have done better.

We have also done MUCH worse (like NSBA this year…but that's for a later chapter). The swing flags actually worked out rather well, I was pretty impressed with us, and how we managed to spin them in October. In Nebraska. In the freaking WIND.

After our performance, we were able to come back and watch the rest of the bands, and then the UNL band performs, then the awards are handed out.

I'll spare you the details (mostly 'cuz I don't remember a lot of them myself) and tell you that we got a Division One-Superior rating.

As we have every year, thank you!

And since NSBA ends guard for the season (except Star City Parade), such is the conclusion of the 2004 season tale.

Keep a lookout for the 2005 season series! Toodles!


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